She gave me the secret password. The toll to get into this place where I suspect I might want to be. A new door. (I am trying to embrace new doors. To walk through them confidently.)
She said to write a poem.
Three lines.
Describing a scent experience.
But I am a poet who doesn’t write poems.
This form I love to teach and to study and to carry in my pocket eludes me. I always have too many words for a poem. A poets heart but a storyteller’s rambling language.
Maybe there is a middle ground. Not a story. Not a poem. Somewhere in between.
Like the sandalwood and plumeria that blend into the secret smell of my home. The two intertwined and floating in the smoke of smoldering wood.
So many smells swirl in my head. Tied to my memories more strongly than my other senses. Scent memories bring immediate flashes of the past right back.
Three lines. Okay. But long lines. (So tempted to apologize for my too many, often awkward words… but no apologies today.)
One. Sitting cross legged on my four poster canopy bed. Patchwork quilt a little dated even in 1985. Adolescence. Slipping from the innocence of this frilly bed. Believing I am on the verge of adulthood. On the verge of becoming the woman I hoped to be. (What would this girl think if she knew I still only felt on the verge of becoming the woman I hoped to be?) I smell expectation. Plans. Dreams. The way I thought adulthood would smell.
Two. Writing in my diary and A-Ha’s “Take On Me” playing on my boom box. Rewind and play. Rewind and play. Repeating. The song and the smell forever linked. “I’m talking away…. I don’t know what I’m to say. I’ll say it anyway….”. What was I saying I wonder ? What I would give to peek into that diary…. to peek into that girl’s dreams!
Three. General Foods International Coffee- French Vanilla. Rectangular metal can with a blue rubber lid. Sitting right next to my knee. Breathing it in. Stirring heaps into my cup of hot water with a plastic spoon. I smell it. So clear and distinct. This memory. This girl. This scent. It is in my nose right now. (Will linger all day…. and will make me smile.) I still smell hope. Expectation. Dreams. Being right on the verge …..
Quiet Happy Wonder 